The Snow Queen

As he said that, he poked me in the back. I walked in silence.

“I know you’re not mute, so this is quite embarrassing. Just answer me.”

He was really persistent. I replied half-heartedly, “That’s right. Then, I’ll be going,” and left the shop. Sonia whistled, saying, “Oh, isn’t that person a celebrity?”

“Darling, how do you know him? From the looks of it, he’s the second Socrates?”

“Similar.”

“That sexy duke? You really can’t judge a book by its cover… Oh my, look at that. He’s standing at the entrance, staring at us intently. But isn’t he alright? Shall we take this opportunity to have an affair? Ho ho ho.”

I burst into laughter at Sonia’s playful banter. After sharing a kiss with her, we parted at the subway station. As I went down the stairs of the subway station, I casually turned around. Duke Vardi was talking with his bodyguard.

Messara entered the restaurant wearing just a gown. I paused as I sat down.

“What’s wrong, Ray?”

“Oh. I just remembered the Eastern-style salad my friend gave me today. I should eat it while it’s fresh.”

“Eastern-style salad?”

I opened the gift box and said, “Yes. They told me it’s a traditional Korean salad.”

“Oh, Korea.”

“That’s the country where the river called Arisu flows. The river is named after my surname.”

“Oh, I remember. Arisa, Arisu… I’m actually looking forward to this salad. Hahaha.”

“Me too. In fact, I don’t know much about Korea.”

I opened the gift box, and for a moment, I was astonished.

Is all Korean salad like this? The color was very red. A red salad, unlike the Western salad that simply mixes fresh vegetables or fruits with a light dressing to enjoy their flavors.

I heard that red and yellow are considered auspicious in the East. So, did they dye the salad red for that reason? The aroma was unique as I had heard. I could see some chili powder, but it seemed more due to the deliberately added coloring.

Did they grind up peppers and add them? Surely, this can’t all just be chili powder water.

I poured the salad onto a plate and placed it on the table. Messara’s eyes widened.

“What’s with all this redness?”

“Who knows? It seems intentionally dyed. It’s completely different from Western salad. The vegetable used is napa cabbage…”

“Hm. Napa cabbage. Now that you mention it, Japanese food also intentionally uses colorful dyes. Is this similar to that?”

Messara murmured as he inspected the salad. As he lifted the salad with a fork, red liquid dripped from it. Messara’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he said, “Hooh.”

I also picked up the salad with my fork and rolled it up.

“A blood-red salad… The mysteries of the East seem beyond comprehension.”

“I’m not sure about the mysteries of the East, but I heard it’s rich in nutrients and excellent for cancer prevention. There’s a strong garlic smell; could that be the reason?”

I said while sniffing the salad’s aroma.

“Is that so? We should eat this every day. To our healthy future!”

Messara smiled and raised his fork as if to toast. I followed suit, raising my fork with a smile. Then, we both put the salad into our mouths at the same time. In an instant, it felt like fire erupted in my mouth. It tasted as if it were mixed with lots of peppery Indian curry. It was so spicy that I thought my eyes would pop out.

Messara was also glaring wide-eyed. We instinctively grabbed our mouths and reached for the water glasses.

The next day, I tried calling Sonia to tell her about my experience with the salad. I called twice, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, but she didn’t answer either time. I heard she was studying fashion at home on her own after quitting her life in the bars, which puzzled me. I tilted my head and hung up.

꙳•❅*ִ

It was a royal party. Today, the king was playfully chatting with Irina on his right and Karl on his left. After Yankerly’s death, Karl had been quiet for a while but recently started attending all sorts of banquets again. His face looked completely refreshed. It seemed he must have been a honeysuckle in his previous life.

He was getting a little too bold.

I glared at Karl, suppressing my annoyance.

Earlier this morning, Councilman Orkis Fontane had called.

“I heard the king is diverting the subway construction budget to gift jewels to Irina. The subway construction project is overseen by the incompetent Baron Makela, who has recently fallen out of favor with Pusher due to his inept handling of affairs. I heard that the king turned a blind eye to the king’s meddling with the subway construction budget, perhaps to side with Duke Vardi. The commoners’ council has no power, so I hope you can persuade the king through Altonen.”

Should I consider this a new project?

It was ambiguous. If Karl were actively involved, it might be worth exposing, but since that wasn’t the case, there wasn’t much to gain by making a fuss. The executives suggested we keep an eye on Karl for now, but I had a bad feeling. The king, being from the countryside, had a simple nature and lived modestly. Yet, after taking office, he had changed in an instant.

I looked over at the jewels Irina was adorned with. They seemed worth at least 17 million talens, even at a glance. The worth of a party was usually determined by the value of the jewels one wore. Irina had been on a roll for the past two weeks. Because of this, the queen had recently been absent from parties, citing health reasons. It was the same today. Recently, at parties, the nobles, regardless of gender, were busy currying favor with Irina.

Suddenly, Leopard poked me in the side. The queen entered the venue with great presence, accompanied by two poodles.

It wasn’t uncommon for noblewomen to bring pets to a party, but it was unusual for the queen to do so, so it was a bit surprising. Well, they were cute, after all.

The queen’s figure was quite plump. I had received information that she was binge-eating lately due to pregnancy, and it seemed to be true. The queen’s expression looked unexpectedly cheerful. Throughout the nobles’ etiquette, she smiled brightly. The king remarked, “Gabrielle, I heard you weren’t feeling well. What brings you here?” The queen chuckled softly.

“It’s because of these cute little ones I received as a gift yesterday. I stopped by to take them for a walk and greet the courtiers. What do you think of the little ones?”

“Oh, they’re lovely. The different colors on their ears make them very cute.”

“But they’re quite stupid and have been giving me a real headache lately. How can such well-bred dogs be so bad at controlling their potty habits! Oh, I almost forgot to tell you their names. The one with pink ears is Krugo, and the one with red ears is Irio. Aren’t they adorable?”

The queen said contentedly. The king turned pale, saying, “What? What did you say?”

In an instant, the banquet hall erupted with laughter. Every noble was doubled over, roaring with laughter. Some were even wiping away tears. Even the executives, including myself, were trembling with laughter, which said it all.

The queen threw a ring into the middle of the banquet hall.

“Alright, Krugo! Irio! Come fetch it!”

Krugo and Irio just stared blankly. The queen glared at them.

“Oh dear! Krugo, Irio! Don’t you understand what I’m saying? Especially you, Krugo! With that ugly face, you’re so stupid! You need a good spanking!”

The queen smacked Krugo’s backside. The dog whimpered sadly. The nobles nearly fainted. I felt like I might lose my mind. It was a crisis where, after eight years of attending parties, I found myself rolling on the floor laughing uncontrollably.

Amid this chaos, only the Vardi siblings and the king remained calm. They were just watching the queen’s one-man show in a daze. Karl’s expression was particularly noteworthy, as if he had been hit hard by a heavyweight champion.

The queen sat down at the banquet table, surrounded by the nobles rushing towards her. Without a doubt, the queen was the star of today’s party. She had completely overshadowed 17 million talens worth of jewels with just two poodles. Truly, she was the daughter of Manen. Although she had serious issues with men, she was smart and keenly aware of the situation.

“Well, I guess that makes him a reliable ally.”

An enemy from yesterday has become an ally today. That’s just the way things worked in this world. The scene unfolding before my eyes was proof of that.

The queen was waving her feathered fan as she received Pusher’s greeting. Pusher seemed ready to even suck the queen’s toes if necessary. Various nobles were also flattering her with conversation. In contrast, the area around the king and the Vardi siblings was as cold as ice. It was a sight I couldn’t have imagined just twenty minutes ago.

I chuckled but then hesitated. The queen’s expression seemed off. The moment I noticed something was wrong, the queen was collapsing backward. In an instant, the party turned into chaos. Blood was flowing from beneath the queen’s green silk dress. The king, his face pale, stood up. But Karl was the first to rush over. He looked at the queen with a shocked expression and raised his voice.

“What are you doing? Call a doctor, now!”

His voice, rich and resonant like an opera tenor, echoed through the room. Karl picked up the queen and hurriedly left the banquet hall. Meanwhile, I stood frozen, feeling like I’d been slapped hard across the face.

Was this the bad feeling I had?

I realized it. It was Karl’s doing.

“Sorry, I’ll be working late tonight, so go to bed first.”

I hung up after speaking with Ray and poured myself a stout, downing it quickly.

This is getting quite interesting.

I went to the department heads’ meeting room, locked the door, and tossed the damned mask aside. The department heads who had accompanied me to the party all looked grim. The queen’s physician was one of our agents. For now, we waited for a call from the physician.

The call came at 1 a.m. The physician rambled on about medical findings before concluding that it wasn’t poison. The department heads looked noticeably disappointed. East Eden’s editorial team, which had been eagerly waiting for our call, had a similar reaction.

I tapped my desk with a whip. How could this be? I was certain Karl had attempted poisoning the moment the queen collapsed, and I had even drafted a scenario. But it’s not poison? It’s just a coincidence?

The timing was impeccable. Due to outward appearances, Irina hadn’t been able to marry for three years. Meanwhile, the queen was currently pregnant. In the long run, it was beneficial for the aristocrats with tattoos to support the queen.

Additionally, Karl had recently accumulated a fair number of enemies. Not only were the aristocrats who weren’t tattooed against him, but even the old guard of tattooed aristocrats resented him for being too brash and using his younger sister to push his way forward. In this tense atmosphere, the only person obliviously lost in love, failing to recognize the age-old truth that romance in the royal palace was nothing but theater, was the foolish king, hopelessly smitten with Irina.

The queen had seen through all of this political turmoil. That’s why she had deliberately brought her sycophants to the party to mock the king and Irina.

And at this point, the queen had a miscarriage?

A miscarriage would be the least of it. I sank into my chair, surveying the department heads.

“The queen is in critical condition.”

Silence hung in the meeting room. Everyone looked speechless. I tapped the table, thinking deeply about the political landscape after the queen’s death.

It was obvious. Pusher would side with Karl. Kruger was the ugliest king in royal history. Typically, ambitious noblewomen aspired to become the king’s mistress, but Kruger’s face was so severe that it extinguished such ambitions. Until Irina appeared, most nobles had joked that Kruger would be the first king in the kingdom’s history not to have a mistress.

In short, if the queen died, there would be only one candidate for queen that the tattooed aristocrats would back: Irina.

Though a noble in mourning cannot marry for three years, they can still get engaged. The ugly king would wait three years if necessary to make Irina his queen. Karl would rise to prominence as a key royal in-law through Irina.

I concluded my thoughts. Whether the queen’s miscarriage was coincidental or not, one thing was clear.

Karl needed to learn a hard lesson.

I turned to Leopard.

“Be at the Centaurea Park clock tower by 11 tomorrow. Dress as inconspicuously as possible.”

Two days later, the morning papers had a scandal about Lord Makela as the top headline. He had been murdered in his male lover’s house. The direct cause of death was strangulation. Additionally, there were hundreds of stab wounds on his body, making the scene shockingly brutal.

The prime suspect was the former professional wrestler male lover, who was now on the run. One of Lord Makela’s other male lovers testified that the two had frequent arguments recently due to Lord Makela’s attempts to end their relationship. The news that a highly regarded, Catholic, married man like Lord Makela not only had a male lover but also a former professional boxer as another lover became the media’s hottest topic, destined to be milked dry.

The next day, a gift box from Councilman Fontane arrived at my office. Inside was a silver pocket watch. The queen had survived the crisis and was recovering. The king stayed by her side the entire time. He even ordered the royal steward to cancel any upcoming royal banquets for the time being.

After Lord Makela’s death, Karl remained in seclusion for two weeks. He didn’t even attend any exhibitions this time.

I returned home quietly without a sound.

The next ten days were hectic. I handled official duties and recruited new people. I attended parties with Altonen to expand our influence. The team monitoring Karl was tripled. Not only were we watching his every move, but we also closely scrutinized everyone around him. No matter how spotless Karl’s reputation was, I was certain we’d find dirt if we dug deep enough.

The results were disappointing. Completely.

No matter how much we searched, we didn’t find a single speck of dust. The department heads were dumbfounded. Jaguar even asked, “Are we chasing the wrong guy here?” Of course, that couldn’t be. Even a child would answer “a pig” or “a pervert” if you asked them to describe a noble. That was common knowledge.

In the end, I sent agents on a mission to Germany. I ordered them to gather every piece of information related to Karl without missing a thing. Our overt aggression must have rattled Karl too. Just the other day, he called Altonen out of the blue, saying he wanted to give a supportive speech for him at the Japonica selection committee.

We didn’t need Karl’s speech one bit, but to prevent an alliance between Pusher and Karl, we accepted his offer. While we were at it, we held a press conference today. At the press conference, Karl smiled at us, baring his shiny white teeth, and said,

“Even following me to an event like this, your loyalty is admirable. Let’s get along well in the future.”

My hand instinctively reached for my gun. Does that bastard even realize his life was spared just because there were too many people around?

Behind Altonen and Karl, who were posing energetically with their arms raised, my fellow department heads and I stood in a line for a commemorative photo. The thing the department heads feared most lately was opening the newspaper the day after a press conference. Recently, every time there was a commemorative photo at an official event, reporters had been adamantly demanding that we stand in a row behind Altonen. They had figured out that Altonen was just a figurehead. Even the progressive media had been cautiously writing about Guiger.

The thought of our ridiculous appearances—wearing those disgraceful uniform coats and masks—circulating in the media for days made me feel awful. The department heads were desperately pleading to at least change the mask and uniform designs. Anyway, after ten days of hard work, I finally took some time off.

The house was dark. Ray was slumped over the desk in the study, asleep. Seeing him like that made me feel conflicted. For the past ten days, I often didn’t get home until well past midnight. The only time we had to talk was during breakfast.

I gently draped a cardigan over Ray and glanced at the desk. Notes and papers were scattered about. I hadn’t had the time to look at Ray’s manuscript because of how busy I’d been. I picked up a notebook and slowly flipped through it. His handwriting was messy, but the organization was clear and concise. The vast amount of content also surprised me. Even considering the help of reference materials, it was astonishing. Was Ray really this knowledgeable?

I carefully lifted Ray and moved him to the bedroom. I stood there for a moment, just looking at him. To anyone, he would appear to be a foolishly beautiful blond. Staring at his sleeping form for so long gave me a strange feeling.

Ha ha ha.

Ah, seriously…

I couldn’t help but laugh, utterly dumbfounded by the thoughts that had just crossed my mind. This is why women criticize men. For a fleeting moment, I thought how much easier it would be if Ray were just as foolish as his appearance suggested. I muttered to myself that it would be nice if he were a simpleton who only depended on me. I was disgusted with myself. It was horribly frustrating.

I knew the truth. Beneath that seemingly airheaded exterior lay a sharp and calculating brain. Inside Ray hid Ryeong, a bold and cold-blooded sorcerer. I was the real fool for laughing at him, thinking he was nothing but a puppet with doll-like eyes.

But I was sure of one thing. Even if Ray were as simple as he looked, I would still love him deeply. I would love him just as fiercely and protectively as I do now.

It really didn’t matter to me if Ray was a fool. After spending the entire day surrounded by noisy, devious, and pretentious people, my nerves were always on edge. Ray, on the other hand, had a way of making me feel at ease. He was timid and melancholic, but despite the difficult circumstances, he was never servile. I liked that about him. That was enough for me.

A surge of anger welled up inside me, followed by a sense of desolation. I had just realized the fundamental reason why I was so wary of the Ryeong inside Ray. It was similar to the rage I felt when I noticed how men looked at Ray.

It was jealousy. I was afraid that Ray’s brilliance might eventually take him away from me. That he would spread his wings, soar high, and leave me behind.

This jealousy was becoming a serious issue. It wasn’t enough that I was jealous of the way men looked at him—now I was even envious of his brain. At this rate, I would probably start secretly inspecting Ray’s underwear every night. This thought left my mind blank.

Damn this possessiveness…

I chuckled bitterly as I tucked the sheet around Ray. He was an incorrigible person. But I was starting to think that I would need to seek psychiatric help before Ray did.

“Mm…”

Ray frowned and shook his head side to side. It seemed like he was having another nightmare. I thought about waking him but decided against it. Unless he was in severe distress, I usually let him sleep through it, hoping to pick up clues about the king or whatever in his sleep talk. So far, all I had gotten were useless snippets like “Get lost” or “You bastard” and “Stop it.”

“Mmm… Uh… Ugh.”

Ray clawed at the sheets. Suddenly, he screamed and thrashed violently. I felt the blood freeze in my veins. This was exactly the same symptom he had displayed at the hospital. I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, and slapped his face.

“Ray! Ray!”

I shouted over and over, but the convulsions wouldn’t stop. A terrifying thought crossed my mind: How many months would this condition last this time? Then, it happened. His eyes snapped open wide, and the spasms stopped instantly.

I stared at Ray, unable to move.

“…Ray. Are you alright?”

I gripped his shoulders more firmly. Ray jerked away from me and yelled, “Get away!”

“Get away from me!”

I froze, staring at him like a statue. His unfocused blue eyes slowly started to regain their clarity. He blinked and shook his head, looking around as if he had no idea where he was.

That look drained all the warmth from my body. I went to the kitchen and brought back some cold water, handing it to Ray. He drank it, thumping his chest. He was drenched in sweat.

I bit my lip. I couldn’t ignore this any longer.

“What kind of dream did you have that made you struggle so much?”

Ray hesitated. After a moment, he mumbled, “Just a nightmare…”

“I’m curious about the details.”

“I don’t remember.”

Another lie. I barely held back the urge to hit him.

“It’s been less than ten minutes since you woke up. If you think carefully, you’ll remember. Someone like you, who can recall the properties of countless plants, surely can’t forget a dream you had ten minutes ago. I’ll wait until you tell me. That’s fine. I’m patient.”

My interrogation was blatant, and Ray nervously darted his eyes around.

“Speak. Now.”

I repeated myself. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded horrifying.

“Well, uh…”

Ray averted his gaze. I tried to relax my grip.

“Well?”

“I was trapped. In a cold room with only a weakly burning torch in the darkness.”

“And?”

“There were men there. They wore black hoods with pointed collars, revealing only their eyes. Their forms were so eerie, they looked like demons. And I was lying naked, chained by my hands and feet to a table. But the table…”

“The table?”

“It was covered in sharp hawthorn branches. The men grabbed my shoulders and ankles and began to rub me back and forth against the branches. No matter how much I screamed for them to stop, they didn’t respond. They started slowly at first, then increased the pace. When I reached my limit, they would stop… and then, when I regained strength, they would start again. They repeated it silently for what felt like an eternity. My screams echoed off the walls in the darkness.”

I couldn’t say anything.

“After a long time, they took me off the table. Even though my vision was blurry, I could see the blood-soaked table. The hawthorn branches were stained with blood and bits of flesh. Then they just left me there and walked out. I lay there, crying. I couldn’t lie on my back, so I had to lie on my stomach. I wondered why, out of all people, I had to endure such cruelty. And in the midst of all that, the funny thing was…”

Ray smiled bitterly.

“I thought it was a relief there was no mirror. I liked looking in mirrors, but now, I was glad there wasn’t one. Funny how I could think that in such a situation… pathetic. That’s it.”

“I see…”

I responded mechanically. I couldn’t say anything else. My mind felt as if it had been cut off by a boomerang, leaving my thoughts paralyzed.

“I’m going to sleep now.”

Ray pulled the sheet up. His face, pale and weary, fell into sleep. Once his breathing became steady, I stepped out into the living room and lit a cigarette.

A table covered in hawthorn branches.

Even the Emperor of Torture, Snake, had never encountered a method like this. Just as Ray had said, it was truly a nightmare. This was the kind of torture that only nightmares could contain. The problem was, Ray had become the source of that nightmare.

If Ray’s body had any torn marks left, I would’ve suspected he’d been tortured in the past. But the only scar on Ray’s body was the gunshot wound I left.

He’d been slashed with hawthorn thorns… This method was so outlandish it was almost creative. Even Guiger, who categorized torture into three levels, never employed such tactics. The first level was sleep deprivation and forcing the victim to stand for long hours, a method the U.S. CIA had highly praised. The second level involved basic waterboarding and minor beatings. The third level was electric torture, cat-o’-nine-tails whips, and skinning.

The third level was only used in urgent cases for forced confessions or revenge killings. Even waterboarding alone came with water bills to pay. As torture escalated, so did the cost and effort, which is why level one was generally where it stopped.

But Ray’s nightmare raised another question. Torture’s fundamental goal is to extract a confession. However, the men in the nightmare tortured him until the thorns dulled but didn’t interrogate him. They simply tormented him in silence for a long time. Sure, with torture like that, anyone would eventually confess, but the fact that they left without a word as soon as the torture ended seemed suspicious.

There was only one answer to this mystery. The purpose of the torture wasn’t to obtain a confession. It was purely to inflict pain and break Ray’s body. It reeked of sinister malice.

And one more thing.

I snuffed out the cigarette, lit another one.

A mirror. He liked looking in the mirror, but he was glad there wasn’t one.

This puzzled me. Ray never enjoyed looking in mirrors. Even when washing his face, he only glanced briefly. I paused as I flicked the ashes. A chill ran down my spine.

On what I called “The Day He Seduced Me with Mackerel,” I had entered Ray’s bathroom just intending to wash my face. What did I see there? A black mark where the mirror should’ve been. It was clear someone had deliberately removed it.

What’s going on?

I took a long drag of my cigarette. Mirror aside, Ray’s nightmare wasn’t something that required deep contemplation. It was as clear as reading palm lines.

Ray had suffered something horrific in the past. Probably from that bastard king or whatever he was. The nightmare was just a manifestation of that. In the dream, Ray was naked. The men appeared and tortured him. The odds were high it was gang rape. For someone as indifferent to most things as Ray, the fact that he was still haunted by nightmares suggested that this rape had been accompanied by perverse acts of extreme cruelty. It had been horrific, violent rape.

My head was bursting with a flood of horrifying thoughts. Ray was desperately searching for that bastard king. There’s no way that guy’s real name was King. King, king, my king… Ray must’ve loved him deeply. He must’ve given himself, body and soul, to that man. But if that guy had betrayed Ray in such a vile way—inviting friends over to do the unthinkable…

It felt like I’d been punched in the face by a Lightcross. The anger that coursed through me was like a burning fireball. Hideous images kept flashing before my eyes. I tried yelling for them to stop, but I couldn’t shake the scene of the men tormenting Ray in silence. Several men wearing hoods with sharp peaks.

Silently torturing Ray.

Strangely, it felt like I had finally discovered a long-hidden truth. As if I’d just been smacked hard in the back of the head.

A murderous rage surged through me, crashing like a tidal wave. I shot to my feet and began pacing the living room. I couldn’t calm down. I had never been this angry in my life.

Unable to bear it any longer, I grabbed a baseball bat and ran outside, swinging it wildly into the air. I slammed it against the trees, hitting so hard that snow fell from the branches. It wasn’t until the street trees were deeply notched that I stopped swinging.

I made up my mind. Once I wrapped up the Karl matter, I’d go after that so-called king first. I wouldn’t rest until I tore him apart and chewed him up. Just wait, you bastard. Stay alive, keep your eyes wide open, and live well until I get my hands on you.

Anyway, tomorrow I would drag Ray to a psychiatric clinic.

꙳•❅*ִ

I was awkwardly smiling in front of a doctor with a gentle face. I’d been doing this for 30 minutes.

Messara was waiting outside. He had insisted on going out and headed straight here. No matter how much I said I was fine, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He practically shoved me into the consultation room, urging me to at least give it a try. I shouldn’t have told him about my dream last night.

The doctor said, “Be honest, and tell me anything.” But I couldn’t do that. If I were to be honest, ‘modern man’ Messara would be devastated. The doctor might even recommend long-term inpatient treatment.

After hesitating for a while, I decided to share how drained I’d felt while sewing doll eyes.

“When you do repetitive manual labor for a long time, your mind goes blank, and sometimes you forget who you are. I even confuse my name with Teddy Arisa at times.”

The doctor looked satisfied with my answer, which was grounded in modern logic.

After leaving the hospital, we headed to a nearby restaurant. During the meal, Messara said, “You should come in three times a week.” His tone and demeanor were firm, leaving no room for argument. I just smiled.

“There’s really no need for that. But why did you see the doctor?”

“Well…”

Messara wiped his lips with a napkin, looking a bit flustered.

“Most modern people, to some degree, suffer from some kind of mental illness. So, I thought I might as well get checked out. It’s nothing serious.”

“Maybe it’s stress from work?”

“Not at all. Work’s going smoothly.”

Messara cut me off. I sipped my water, observing him closely. That didn’t seem to be the case. I couldn’t say for sure, but Messara appeared to be facing some kind of trouble. Otherwise, there was no way he’d be spending so little time at home lately.

Could it be that the bad feeling I had about the Queen case was right?

I almost brought up the Queen situation with Messara but decided against it. Messara wasn’t the kind of guy who would let another man push him around easily. In fact, it might be the people opposing him who should be worried.

“It seems like the project has made quite a bit of progress. I skimmed through the manuscript yesterday and was surprised by the sheer volume.”

“But I wonder if the publisher will even buy it. Since it’s not written by an expert or authority in the field, they might be skeptical about the content. Plus, there are already so many books on the same topic.”

“I see. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Messara responded with a peculiar expression. The way he quickly averted his gaze was strange. Maybe he thought he’d said something wrong. But I didn’t mind.

After a while, Messara, who had been silently drinking, suddenly spoke up.

“By the way, Ray. I asked you this before, but… about your preferences.”

“Preferences?”

“Don’t you remember? I once asked you at the hospital about your preference in men. I asked if you’ve ever felt that electric sensation at first sight, and what kind of type you liked.”

“Ah, yes. I remember.”

“At the time, you said that instead of feeling that spark, you’ve only ever met perverts. Including me… You even called me a relatively well-mannered pervert. Haha. Anyway, I just got curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“You said you’ve never been struck by that spark at first sight when it comes to men. But I wondered if, on the contrary, there’s a type of man you strongly dislike—like a certain appearance or physique that really turns you off. A ‘dislike’ type, so to speak.”

Messara’s gaze was sharp and cold as he asked the question. Was it because it was related to men?

“Hmm.”

I furrowed my brow. A type I dislike…

I’d never thought about it. I hadn’t paid enough attention to men to form such preferences. Becoming a gay man had been more the result of coincidence and impulse. In fact, Messara was the reason I ended up on this path. It was through sex with him that I first experienced ecstasy.

It all started with our second encounter in that secondhand bookstore. I couldn’t bring myself to say this, but part of the reason I hadn’t resisted Messara’s advances was because I enjoyed it. Even though I knew he would become cruel in the end, I couldn’t resist in the moment when my body was melting.

But after thinking hard, I realized I didn’t have a type I particularly disliked.

“So, what kind of men do you dislike, Messara?”

Messara shrugged.

“As I’ve mentioned before. Hairy ones. And guys with large builds.”

I see. But I also have a lot of hair… Hair is hair, even if it’s on your head.

Scratching my cheek, I sank into thought again. If I had to pick, there was only one: Daytanz.

“I don’t like black hair.”

“Hm. Black hair. And?”

“I’m not a fan of faces that look too cold either. I don’t like sharp eyes with dark pupils. Faces with clear and sharp features are intimidating. If I had to pinpoint a style I don’t like, it would be a face with an unwelcoming expression.”

“I’m glad my expression is soft, then. Is that why you told me to grow out my bangs before?”

“That was just because I thought bangs suited you better.”

“Looks like I’ll need to wear my bangs down whenever we go out. Well, I understand. Black hair, black eyes, sharp features… That kind of face is off-putting to Ray, huh? Haha. Haha.”

Messara laughed repeatedly, strangely, and with an unusual amount of cheer.

I found myself laughing along with him.

“But I’m curious too. Do you have any particular reason for disliking hairy or large men?”

“Hm?”

Messara set down his wine glass.

“Do preferences really need a reason? I just don’t feel any attraction to guys like that. To be honest, they make me want to hit them more than touch them. They’re the kind of guys I’d rather face in a boxing ring than in bed.”

It was such a typical Messara statement.

“I see. I always thought gay men didn’t discriminate when it came to men.”

“Haha! So, Ray, are you interested in just any man?”

Messara burst out laughing. I awkwardly shook my head and replied, “Of course not.”

“But, Ray. I have one more question I’m curious about.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing. Maybe even shameless. Haha.”

“Embarrassing and shameless? That sounds like an interesting question. Go ahead.”

“I’ve hesitated to say it before, but I’ve mustered the courage to ask now. Am I your first love?”

“…What?”

Without meaning to, my voice rose. My face flushed with heat. First love?

“Am I your first love?”

I never imagined Messara would ask something like that. It was both baffling and embarrassing. Given my age when we first met, I thought that kind of question wouldn’t even cross his mind. Why would he…

Was I so awkward in bed and conversation that Messara would suspect something like that? Or was this just another manifestation of his chronic jealousy? As all these thoughts ran through my mind, I felt embarrassed.

First love…

Today, Messara was acting strange. He was usually chatty and inquisitive, but something was different about today.

If I were to answer Messara’s question honestly, the answer was, of course, “Yes.” Though I’d never told him this, Messara was my first. My first love was Four Messara.

Not only was he my first love, but I’d also never been intimate with a woman. In Europe, where chastity isn’t as emphasized as it is in Islamic or Eastern countries, a man like me, who hadn’t even had sex by his late twenties, was something to be ashamed of. It wasn’t something I could easily admit to anyone.

I was relieved that Messara didn’t ask, “Am I your first sexual partner?” If he had, I would’ve wanted to crawl into a hole.

“Yes. You’re my first love.”

I spoke softly, lowering my head. Messara’s hand in my line of sight didn’t move. Was he too stunned? Of course, he was. It was natural to be shocked. Embarrassment washed over me, and my cheeks flushed red.

“I see.”

It was only after a long pause that Messara finally spoke. I gathered the courage to look up.

Messara, deep in thought, raised his glass to his lips and suddenly said,

“I’m happy. As I’ve mentioned before, you’re my first love too.”

“…”

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was at a loss for words. Of course, I remembered. The words that had driven Messara to unbearable pain—words that I’d uttered.

However, I must say this: I love you. You are my first. This is the first time I’ve felt this way.

Messara will never know how many times I replayed those words during our time apart. First love… I never interpreted it in that sense. Not even once.

I only ever took it to mean that he loved me deeply, that he had never loved anyone so passionately before. I arrogantly assumed that if I was anything to Messara, it was his greatest love—never his first. I never considered the possibility, not even remotely.

The reason was simple: because it was

.

With his brazenness, neat appearance, and messy love life, Messara seemed overflowing with experience, not lacking it. Honestly, he looked like a man who had been in a million relationships. Not to mention, Messara was two years older than me. How could I possibly imagine that I would be his first love? It was an entirely reasonable assumption.

Messara smiled.

“Back then, you got angry and told me not to joke around. I guess I couldn’t earn your trust. Well, I was a bit of a playboy before I met you. But that’s all in the past.”

“…Are you really saying you’ve never been in love before?”

“Yes. You’re my first.”

Messara answered, firmly.

Even then, I was stunned.

“Do you mean you’ve never been in a relationship before?”

“I’ve only ever had flings with random people. If that counts as a relationship, then sure, call it that.”

Daytanz’s words echoed in my ears. Ray Arisa had always dismissed those words as lies without a second thought. And once again, it was because the one who had said them was Daytanz.

I bit my lip. At least not Daytanz. Daytanz was an impossibility. He had loved Levitan so much that he hadn’t sought out Whitebirch for a full 15 years. And Whitebirch had clearly seen something at the masquerade ball.

I was certain. Those words were nothing but a poisonous temptation.

“You seem bewildered. Haha, I must’ve made quite an impression on you. I guess I do have a rather promiscuous image in your mind.”

Messara chuckled and took another drink. I couldn’t move.

“But I’m surprised too. For someone like Ray, I would’ve thought someone better than me would be your first love. Didn’t you get a lot of attention working in that bookstore?”

“There was nothing like that. No one was interested in me. Customers usually scowled, and even the neighbors kept their distance.”

“That’s funny. I guess that blonde hair would make people wrinkle their noses. But anyone with eyes would see you’re quite the looker.”

I ended up laughing. It seemed Messara saw my face as some kind of radiant, shining vision. Like the saying goes, he was seeing me through rose-colored glasses.

“Shall we head out?”

Messara stood up. Still dazed, I followed suit.

The streets, untouched by snow for a few days, gleamed in vibrant colors. The festival made everything lively. People in masks and flashy outfits wandered all around. Messara remained quiet. I too kept silent, walking in step with him, still feeling dazed. That surreal feeling wouldn’t leave me.

It had to be because of Messara’s words. There was no other reason.

I tried to recall when it all began.

It was amusing. What a mess.

I had been sitting in a dim, seedy bar, with cigarette smoke clinging to all my senses. In the cocktail glass before me, the reflections of two men across the table flickered. They glanced at me with indifferent eyes.

Only after a long pause did one of them speak to me. He was a friend of Messara’s. I accepted his offer and stood up.

On the way to the hotel, Messara didn’t say a word. Occasionally, I thought I caught him looking at me through the rearview mirror, but I wasn’t sure. Then we arrived at the hotel. The first hotel I had ever set foot in, and the room I walked into to have sex with two strangers was bathed in a soft ivory glow.

The moment that glow reached my eyes, I came to my senses. Overwhelmed with regret, I just stood there, turned away from the men, shuffling nervously and casting uneasy glances.

Suddenly, someone touched my hair. I instinctively turned around. It was the blonde man who had remained silent all this time. As he withdrew his hand, he looked me up and down. His expression was half bemused, half puzzled.

He stared for a moment, then shrugged. And then he spoke.

“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”

That was the first thing Messara ever said to me. Calmly, shamelessly—”Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”

What kind of impression did I have of Messara at the time? I thought,

I had no inkling back then. How could I have guessed? That brazen man, four months later, would one day grab my trembling shoulder with shaking hands and whisper, “I love you,” his voice trembling with emotion.

Why is it, I wonder, that I suddenly think of that painting? A small black dog sinking into a swamp… only its black head barely visible above the surface. Its round eyes stared blankly at the gray-brown sky, completely unaware of what was happening. The dog was still alive. But in the inevitable flow of time beyond the frozen image, the swamp would mercilessly swallow even its head. And it would be forgotten.

Life is so unpredictable.

I couldn’t stop laughing. Messara glanced at me. His eyes seemed to ask,

I buried my face in his arm. The cold texture of his coat, chilled by the wind, scratched my nose. Messara pulled my shoulder closer. A gray shadow slowly fell over us. Cold lips brushed against mine. The touch was faint, like mist. But in an instant, that delicate contact engulfed me in a vast wave of emotion, like a cry of anguish.

Was it an illusion? Even if it was, I didn’t mind. For a moment, I was seized by the thought that this time we were sharing might last forever. I clung to that belief. At least in this moment, under the fierce twilight, I knew I’d never forget it until the day I perished. That even the red earth would hold onto it. That no matter how much the cries of starving beasts circled near the graves, no matter how firmly silent the tombstones stood, they could never erase this memory.

I laughed as I pulled my lips away from Messara’s. Maybe it was the excitement stirred by the confession of being his first. If so, it was ridiculous. Feeling embarrassed, I pointed to a nearby flower shop and said, “Let’s go in there.” We bought cyclamen pots from the shop. I liked cyclamen. They were unique and beautiful winter flowers, with folded petals like a butterfly’s wings.

We walked down the street, side by side, each holding a flowerpot. Just watching the colorfully dressed people was fun. Then, I happened to notice a newspaper stand. Without thinking, I muttered, “Huh?”

On the front page of the newspaper were rows of Messaras. Or rather, rows of Guiger executives. What could this mean? What had happened in the two months since I’d lost touch with the news? What was going on in the political world that the Guiger executives were making front-page news?

Messara, noticing where I was looking, froze for a moment.

“What are you staring at?”

“Uh… Did something bad happen? Why are

on the front page?”

I pointed at the newspaper. Messara responded quickly, “Ah, why bother looking at that? It’s nothing. Let’s go.” He tugged at my side. Even as I was dragged away, I stared hard at the newspaper. Upon closer inspection, I saw two men in front of the Messaras, smiling brightly with their hands raised.

It was Altonen and Duke Vardi. In fact, they were the main characters. However, because the masks and outfits of the Messaras were so intimidating, the lead actors had been overshadowed.

Duke Vardi… So he was involved not only in entertainment but also in political struggles. And for a noble with tattoos to be with Altonen like that, was it an alliance? For the fastidious Messara to accept him as an ally, Vardi must have made quite an impression in the political scene. Indeed, he didn’t seem like an ordinary person to me either.

“Wow, that’s amazing. They stand out so much that you can barely see the main characters in front. I was really surprised the moment I saw them.”

“…Is that so.”

“Yes. Unless someone has severe nearsightedness, I think anyone would be surprised. They’re incredibly striking. Of course, seeing them in person is even more chilling.”

“I see.”

Messara quickened his pace. His expression stiffened when I mentioned his workplace. I closed my mouth and kept walking beside him. We watched the parade while talking for about two hours, and eventually, I started to feel tired.

“Messara, should we rest for a bit? I’m getting out of breath.”

“Huh? You’re tired already?”

Messara stopped abruptly as he answered. I pointed to a terrace at an outdoor café and said, “Let’s sit there for a while.” Messara narrowed his eyes.

“Hmm… Instead of that, how about we just head home?”

“Already? Without watching the parade?”

“You look really tired. Oh, and it’s quite a walk to where we left the car. Let’s sit here for a moment. I’ll go buy you some medicine.”

“What? Medicine? I don’t need that just for this.”

Ignoring my protests, Messara pushed me into a chair and, to my surprise, really went to get some medicine. When he returned, he handed it to me, saying, “It’s a tonic.” Though I was taken aback, since he had gone through the trouble of buying it, I drank it. It was bitter.

Messara had always been overly concerned about my health, and today was no different. This wasn’t the first time he had given me medicine, either. He seemed unaware that frequent use of medication could be more harmful. Even the first-aid kit at home was overflowing with medicine.

While I rested, Messara drummed his fingers on the table and then spoke.

“Hmm, Ray. Do you really want to watch the parade?”

“Well… it’s not a big deal if we don’t, but we haven’t been out in a while.”

“The parade won’t fully start until around ten tonight, so why don’t we change locations? I know a nearby spot that would be a good place to rest while we wait for the festival to begin.”

“What kind of place?”

As Messara flagged down a taxi, I tilted my head in confusion.

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s nothing fancy.”

Messara opened the front door, and I hesitantly stepped inside.

It was another of Messara’s homes… specifically, Snake’s hideout. It was also the place where I had woken up a week after losing my memory due to Whitebirch.

I had once asked Messara what we had done during that time. He had given a vague smile and replied, “What else? We just fooled around.” I hadn’t asked any more questions after that. Knowing Messara’s personality, I figured that’s probably all we did.

I looked around. The black-and-white modern interior gave off a cold impression, completely different from the house we shared.

“Nice work. Did you do it yourself? It must be a lot to maintain.”

“I hired professionals, but I had a lot of input in the design. As for the cleaning and maintenance, the maid handles it.”

“I see…”

I smiled subtly, thinking about Messara’s terrible cleaning skills.

“Now that we’re here, let’s look around. There’s not much to see, though.”

Messara guided me around the interior. Unlike foreign aristocrats who preferred large estates or castles, in this kingdom, luxury apartments with indoor pools and gardens were popular due to the climate. However, Messara’s pool had no water, and the garden was closed off. When I asked why, he simply replied, “I’ve been busy.”

“All I did in this place was change clothes and sleep.”

That made sense. While I spent my days lounging around, murmuring spells to the Whitebirch branches, Messara had probably been busy brawling with protestors in the streets and assassinating high-ranking officials.

“The room I frequented the most was this study.”

Messara opened the study door. It was clear that he had spent a lot of time here. The bookshelves were filled with detective and gangster novels, and the area around the stereo, scattered with CDs, showed signs of use. On the desk was a laptop. I imagined Messara sitting there, chain-smoking like a private investigator, deeply immersed in conspiracies, and it gave me a strange feeling.

“Would you like to see my collection?”

Suddenly, Messara grinned mischievously. He led me to the bedroom and pulled out a black box from a safe. Contrary to my expectation of more jewelry, I was surprised by what I saw.

“What… What is this?”

“What do you think? These are private tools.”

Messara replied with a straight face. And indeed, they were private tools. The kind of sex toys that would earn disapproving glares if displayed in public.

Messara laid them out on the table one by one, as if setting a dining table, with an air of confidence. I stared at them blankly.

Handcuffs, whips, double clamps connected by chains, various rods, and even intricately designed leather underwear—there was no shortage of unusual items. Some of them looked familiar.

“Do you recognize this one? It’s a vibrator I used on you once. If I remember correctly, your reaction was quite… memorable. Hahaha.”

Messara said mischievously, holding up a cactus-shaped rod. My face heated up.

“For someone as busy as you, you certainly found time to collect these things.”

“Balancing work and personal life is a key part of my philosophy.”

Messara responded nonchalantly. I found it absurd, but I understood. That’s the kind of man he was, after all. From the beginning, he had been someone who meticulously separated Guiger Chief Snake from the perverted Four Messara. Even when he was plotting a media conspiracy targeting Lord Manen, Messara would come to me, bringing along his perverted tools and using up all his energy. He was truly a man brimming with vitality.

It seemed that this overflowing energy played a part in Messara’s characteristic sadism. Among the perverts I met at Snow White, some were masochists. One of them, as soon as we entered the house, placed a large bucket full of hundreds of eggs in front of me and asked me to throw them all at him. After two hours of hard labor, I had emptied the bucket and reached a conclusion: sadistic acts, too, are a form of labor-intensive activity.

At this point, I began to think it didn’t matter anymore. Might as well learn something and pick out a tool that interests me.

In a way, it was a whole new world.

“What’s this double clip used for?”

“It’s for the nipples. It’s called a nipple clip. Since men don’t usually feel much in their nipples, this tool is used to train them. After making the area more sensitive with the clip, you caress it. But it’s not necessary for you. Ray, your nipples are already sensitive. If they got even more sensitive, you wouldn’t be able to wear clothes properly.”

I almost dropped the clip I was holding.

“And this bizarre leather underwear? Did you buy it to look sexy?”

“It’s a bondage garment. I’ve never worn it myself.”

Bondage garment, huh? The name alone sounded extremely sadistic. Even Messara hadn’t worn it, so it must be some kind of terrifying underwear. I didn’t dare ask how it was used.

“But why are there so many rods? One should be enough.”

“They’re not rods, they’re vibrators and rotors. Since everyone has different body types and preferences, I’ve collected various sizes, functions, and designs. It’s an industry, after all, and companies come up with new innovative products every month. It’s only natural to be curious about new items in any field.”

Messara’s explanation was so smooth that all I could say was, “I see.” My head was spinning. Still, as we went along, I started to feel a scholarly curiosity. What must it feel like to design these kinds of tools? Who handles the designs? What about the factories for mass production? Are they exported too?

“You have a lot of whips too. Did you buy them to carry around at work?”

“No. The one I carry at work is a knout whip, 16 inches long and made of rawhide. Just one solid hit with it is enough to tear skin. The ones you’re looking at are all sex toys.”

“….”

“To be honest, these are more like toys pretending to be whips. They’re meant to be used on the human body, so there are regulations in this industry. Real whips like knouts can’t be manufactured or sold for sex purposes.”

“….”

“It’s similar to how pharmaceutical companies would get sued for selling drugs with too many side effects. Even in SM clubs, they’re legally required to use approved tools. There are many cases where whip play has led to murder or scammers faking self-injury. Ha ha ha.”

It truly was a whole new world.

Genuinely astonished, I took a deep breath. Whips were the tools Messara and his friend often used on me, lightly hitting me after getting my consent during our one-night stands. Now I finally understood why I had never gotten a single mark from them.

But something seemed off. There were no candles. When you think of sadism, you think of candles and whips, right? Well, I could easily find candles at any supermarket. Still, I wondered if there was a special kind of candle made specifically for sex.

Just as I was debating whether to ask, the doorbell rang. Messara said, “Just a moment,” and left the room. After a short while, he returned.

“The neighbors are throwing a party. They’re insisting I at least show my face. I’ll just drop by for a bit. You must be tired, so why don’t you rest?”

“It’s fine. Take your time and enjoy.”

“Watch some TV. I’ll grab a piece of cake and be right back.”

Messara spread a sheet over the couch in the living room before leaving. I blankly stared at the television. It was much bigger than the one in the house where we lived together. I pulled the sheet up to my neck and pressed the remote.

A bald man filled the screen, dabbing at his tear-stained face with his sleeve as he sniffled.

The bald man stammered. It seemed like a talk show. The expressions of the audience and the host were incredibly serious.

After a long pause, the bald man spoke again.

W-what did he just say?

I widened my eyes.

꙳•❅*ִ

I came home with cake and pastries from the Krook couple. As soon as I opened the door, I was puzzled. Ray was watching TV and laughing uproariously. He was wiping his tear-streaked eyes and practically rolling around in fits of laughter. It was rare to see the emperor of gloom burst into such laughter.

I set the cake and pastries on the table and sat down next to Ray.

“What on earth are you watching that’s so funny?”

“Well, it’s just… haha!”

Ray pointed to the screen with his finger. The host was staring intensely at the camera, saying, “This is truly a serious matter.”

Good grief…

Another Snow Queen, huh?

I couldn’t help but click my tongue, but seeing Ray so thoroughly entertained, I decided to sit quietly and let him enjoy it.

The expert said:

A portrait of Whitebirch appeared on the screen.

With a melancholic violin melody in the background, the main contenders for the reincarnation of Snow Queen Whitebirch were shown. They were a diverse group. From a balding middle-aged man to a Latin-looking sexy guy who was clearly aspiring to be a celebrity, and even a little boy holding his mother’s hand—each one tearfully said things like “I was lonely,” “I was in pain,” and “I want to regain my honor.” It was a spectacle. Then, a preview of the next episode appeared.

To the majestic sound of an orchestra, a long-haired king charged through enemy lines on horseback, swinging his sword, Karl. It looked like a scene from a movie. The king, with his hair flowing behind him, shouted, “Follow me! Don’t lose courage!” as he charged fiercely. With the caption “Savior of the Nation, Daytanz! The Invincible King, and where is he now?” a man wearing shiny glasses appeared.

“Every time I broke through enemy lines, fear surged within me. But I found courage by thinking of the people.”

Following him, a series of candidates much more intelligent-looking than the Whitebirch contenders appeared. They were fraudsters through and through. “I drove my horse madly. I didn’t even notice the arrow lodged in my arm until after the battle was over,” said one. “Sacrificing the queen was an inevitable, brave decision,” said another, their faces remaining unchanged as they spewed their lies.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Sideburns came to mind immediately. I still clearly remember the so-called “reincarnation” of the brave Shaikan Arisa, trembling pale in the corner of a jeep.

“Hahaha.”

Ray wiped away his tears. I offered him a piece of cake.

“Here, eat this while we watch. Mrs. Crook is a fantastic cook. She also said she’d like you to join us for dinner.”

“Mmm, okay.”

Ray accepted the cake, still laughing. The cream-covered smile on his face and the crescent-shaped wrinkles at the corners of his eyes made me feel a sudden rush of heat. Ray licked the cream from his lips. It was likely just a thoughtless action on his part, but for me, the effect was very different.

I wanted to pounce on him right away. I wanted to strip off all his clothes and thrust myself inside, spilling everything. It had been ten busy days without any proper sex. My desire was intense.

But I had to control myself. I had to restrain. Nearby, a pile of perverted tools lay stacked up. In such a dangerous environment, I didn’t know what I might do if I jumped on Ray. I might even end up being treated like a beast and rejected by him again.

Well…

Touching him lightly should be fine, though.

I slipped my hand under Ray’s shirt. He flinched but didn’t stop me. As I caressed his chest, I buried my face in his amber hair. Ray let out a moan and pressed his back against my chest. His response was more enthusiastic than I expected. It seemed he had been just as deprived as I had been.

I turned down the TV volume and started undressing Ray. As I pressed my body against his, inhaling the milky scent of his skin, I began to gently caress him. It felt so good to know that he desired my touch. I toyed with his hardened nipples.

“Do you like it?”

When I asked, Ray nodded. I relished this moment—entwined naked with Ray, the sound of the low TV in the background. As I continued to tease his nipples, I found myself deep in thought.

Today, I had probed Ray with questions, trying to identify that so-called king. I had started by asking about his face. After some thought, Ray’s gaze wandered, as if he was mentally grasping at something in the air. That was the usual reaction when someone was trying to recall a specific person.

He answered. The king, or whoever he was, had black hair and a sharp expression.

Next, I asked Ray about his past relationships. If Ray had given his heart and body to that king or whatever, and then been cruelly discarded, I figured I could find some clue in his answer.

But the reply I got was completely unexpected. It shattered all my assumptions. He said I was his first love, with a mixture of happiness and embarrassment on his face.

It was the truth. I knew it. I was so stunned, I couldn’t move.

What is this? Isn’t this a contradiction? Maybe Ray had suffered so much that he’d lost parts of his memory. Amnesia as a defense mechanism.

Memory loss…

Just thinking about it made me feel melancholic. I remembered the week when Ray had lost his mind. For me, it had been an unbelievably sweet time. It was the first time I had ever heard Ray say, “Me too,” in response to my feelings. We danced together. We had a sweet trip. It was a precious time I would never forget, even on my deathbed.

“Why that face?”

Ray reached out to touch my cheek, snapping me back to reality.

“Oh. It’s nothing.”

“Really?”

Ray tilted his head, then gently stroked my cheek again. I reached up and touched his cheek too.

A sudden wave of bitterness washed over me. Ray truly didn’t remember. During that week when his memories were covered by the veil of amnesia, we had lain just like this, face to face, caressing each other’s cheeks. It had been right here, on this sofa. The night we returned from our trip.

After dressing Ray in the clothes we had bought, we had danced in circles and then collapsed onto the sofa, where we lay staring at each other in silence, gently stroking one another’s cheeks. Ray’s expression had been indescribably soft. His crescent eyes and the smile on his lips had captivated me completely, piercing deep into my soul.

All those memories were now erased from Ray’s mind. They had disappeared as suddenly as the sun behind storm clouds, scattered like smoke from wet wood.

Why? What could have happened to Ray to make him suffer memory loss to this extent? My heart was filled with nothing but questions and anger.

Calm down…

I decided to stop dwelling on bitter thoughts. It was my long-awaited vacation, and I planned to enjoy it fully until tomorrow. As I absentmindedly played with Ray’s hair, I reflected on the “harvest” of the day, and the thought lifted my mood.

When I first embraced Ray that night, I instinctively knew he was inexperienced. However, considering that “king” or whatever, I thought it was just because it had been a while for him, making him feel tighter. Based on the overall circumstances, I concluded that I must be Ray’s second love at the very least. His second love.

For a twenty-eight-year-old blond beauty in a European country known for extreme promiscuity, to be his second love, his second man. I shrugged.

It was ridiculous. For someone like me—someone who even

had bowed down to, a notorious playboy—to be so caught up in my lover’s past. If women could peer into my mind, they’d probably suggest kicking it around like a soccer ball.

Suddenly, an unrelated question popped into my mind.

“Hey, Ray. So, when was the first time you were with a woman? You’ve lived on 42nd Street for quite a while, so I figured it must’ve happened pretty early.”

It was just a casual question, but in that instant, the faint smile on Ray’s lips vanished, and his eyes widened in shock. He looked like someone who had just received an earth-shattering blow.

Ray then lowered his head slowly, pulling the bedsheet up to cover himself. He remained silent. But I already knew the answer.

“Well, I’ve never been with a woman either,” I said, trying to comfort him.

Even then, Ray said nothing. He stayed silent.

We spent the rest of the evening lazing around on the sofa, watching TV, and laughing out loud. It wasn’t until today that I realized

was a flagship show on the occult channel. It was said that 176 famous figures’ reincarnations had been identified through the program, and the broadcast wouldn’t stop until the real deal was found. It felt like the kingdom’s long winters were driving people into madness.

Later that night, we headed to the Crooks’ house for dinner. The meal included steak with fresh spinach. Afterward, we strolled through the streets, where the parade was in full swing.

The streets were packed with people in all sorts of masks, cloaks, and dresses. Hand in hand, Ray and I walked slowly down the street. I suddenly noticed a group of girls selling red flowers in the distance, singing as they tried to catch the attention of passersby. I couldn’t help but smile.

I recalled the night Ray and I first enjoyed a festival together. Ray had pointed in one direction, where a group of girls, just like now, was selling red flowers and singing to attract customers. We had bought some flowers and walked through the streets, each holding one.

Suddenly, an old fantasy surged within me. It had been festering since that night at Irina’s shop opening party. I had been so depressed that I couldn’t sleep until dawn, staring at the ceiling the whole time. A few days later, the thought came back to me, and the more I dwelled on it, the more determined I became.

Ray had forgiven and accepted me, and since then, we had been getting along well. So, wasn’t that enough? But then, out of nowhere, some stranger decided to jump in and say I was unworthy, that we should break up, hurling all sorts of insults. Who did they think they were?

That was when the idea of performing a “ceremony” started growing in my mind.

I glanced at Ray. He was absorbed in watching the parade. I discreetly led him toward a jewelry store. Ray frowned slightly.

“More jewelry?”

“Let’s just do some window shopping. This place is famous for its excellent pieces. Pick something you like, Ray.”

“I’m not really into that…”

Ray hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. I ignored it. I had a different reason for coming here, one more important than browsing. I was here to purchase something essential for the “ceremony”—a ring.

Most of the jewelry I had gifted Ray in the past were necklaces. While necklaces suited him, my personal interest in them also played a role. Since I often had to use my fists and wear gloves for work, rings never held much appeal to me. But today was different. Today, I was here for a ring.

It was obvious, wasn’t it? The most basic ceremony between lovers was exchanging rings. It might have been a bit cheesy, but who cared? I was ready to check off all the traditional steps couples took.

I was committed. Now that I had started, I was determined to see it through to the end. I wasn’t one for half measures, and I figured this was one of those things only lovers could truly enjoy. I wondered if Ray understood the deeper meaning behind it all. I cast him a meaningful glance.

“Well, Ray, how about something different today? Let’s check out some rings. Rings, you know? Ha ha ha!”

“Whatever makes you happy, Messara,” Ray replied.

That answer was just like him—completely lacking in subtlety.

I clicked my tongue and scanned the display case. I was leaning toward a simple sapphire ring. After all, sapphire had long been considered the ultimate wedding gift. I had chosen a sapphire necklace for Ray’s birthday for that very reason—its symbolism.

The store manager, recognizing me as a regular, was already approaching us.

“Welcome back, sir. I hope the necklace you ordered last time was to your liking.”

“Ha ha, yes. Today, I’d like to see rings made with Ceylon sapphires.”

“Oh, rings, you say.”

The manager smiled, glancing between me and Ray.

“Here we have some Ceylon sapphire rings. Feel free to take a look.”

“Hmm, they all look nice… What do you think, Ray? Why don’t you help me choose?”

I glanced over at Ray, and his face had turned bright red. I paused.

I felt incredibly pleased.

“I want to wear a ring that Ray likes. Come on, pick one out.”